Wings Are Made To Fly
by SamLim29
Summary: "Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for it is there you have been, and where you will always long to return."


A/N: Hello, guys! Since Haikyuu has taken over my life, I have responded accordingly by doing what I do best: Writing fanfiction. This isn't my first Haikyuu story, but I would be incredibly grateful if you took some time to review and favourite my story. Thank you for reading!

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"_Tilly!" My brother cried, patting the cushion beside him. "Come up here! I'll read you a story!"_

_I scrambled up onto the grey velveteen couch that smelled of warm milk and sunshine, snuggling against his side. He held a book in his lap, bright happy animals dancing across the pages. I listened as he read to me in a soft, soothing voice, his hands turning the pages as if they were made of butterfly wings. Except, everything was blurry, like water sluicing down a windowpane. I couldn't see my brother's face. But I knew he was smiling at me, his chocolate brown eyes resting on me with a look of firm affection, and that made me feel warm and safe. I was loved. I was his._

"_No, not like that, Tilly. Tilt your wrist at more of an angle," My brother explained patiently, now watching an older version of me from across the yard. A ball, its leather coating peeling off in places, rolled aimlessly about on the ground. _

"_Ready?" My brother asked, and I nodded, watching as he picked the ball up, spinning it expertly on the flat of his palm, effortlessly sending it soaring a good three feet into the air. With a loud smack, the ball connected against his palm and was sent flying in my direction. I dove for the ball, and with a loud cry, tripped and hurtled to the ground. I tried to use my hands to break my fall, but my hands weren't having any of it. There was a loud crack. Pain shot up my wrist, and I started to scream._

"_Tilly," My brother whispered, his voice so faint I barely caught it, his eyes bloodshot and his normally happy-go-lucky expression woebegone. "Tilly, I'm so, so, sorry, I didn't mean to-"_

_My eyes fluttered open, and when I saw him sitting at the foot of my bed, waiting, I couldn't help but smile through the pain and the fog of drugs. "Big brother's… Really amazing. When I get well, we'll play volleyball more, right? I won't let you win!"_

_Though his eyes were teary, he smiled. That same warm smile, the corners of his mouth trembling. But his face was blurry, and indistinct. Why couldn't I see him? Why couldn't I remember?_

_He opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out, falling away from me. I cried out and reached for him, but he slipped away, into the dark._

The sound of the alarm clock as it boomed was an irritating intrusion into the comfortable haze of sleep that wrapped its arms around me. I kept my eyes shut, burrowing deeper into the warm cocoon of silken blankets; trying to let the haze reclaim me, but the damage had already been done. I was awake now.

I groaned, still not ready to untangle myself from the covers, and I tried to recall what I had been dreaming about before being so rudely interrupted. For a moment, I thought I might remember, but the elusive whisper of my dream escaped me.

I made a disgusted sound in the back of my throat, sitting up in one not-so-smooth motion. I turned off my clock before it could reach its ten minute snooze interval.

This was the third day of school, and I didn't want to start my high school year with a tardy slip. I rubbed my face with both hands, trying to stimulate the flow of blood in an effort to stay awake. I wasn't much of a morning person.

I stumbled through most of my before-school routine, showering, brushing my teeth, and dressing. After scrutinizing myself in the mirror and noting the dark bruises beneath my eyes, I thought about how badly I wanted to crawl back beneath the already cooling mound of blankets that covered my bed like an inviting nest.

I pulled my hair into a messy ponytail – the only kind of ponytail that my already unruly curls allowed – before grabbing my backpack off the floor. I hated it when adults told me how lucky I was to have such gorgeous, natural curls, when I wanted nothing more than to blend in with the sea of shiny, flat-ironed, stick-straight hair with which every girl in school seemed to have been blessed.

Tucking my requisite white cotton button up shirt into my perfectly pleated skirt, I shrugged on the school blazer, tugging on a pair of white tights, pushing the dress code to the limits.

I heard the bus clank down the street, and after slipping out the door quietly, took off at a gallop – Nana and Pops needed their rest, and I didn't want to rouse them from the sleep they so desperately needed. The bus made a distinct chugging noise that made me want to hurry, even when I was already waiting at the bus stop. I reached the stop as the doors opened; other kids got on in front of me. None of us spoke - or more accurately, I tuned out their mindless chatter.

I dashed off the bus, through the door to my first class just as the bell sounded.

Three days down and no tardy slips.

Just one hundred and seventy-seven to go.

By the time recess rolled round, I was exhausted, burying my head in my arms to block out the incessant chatter.

"Bad day?" Hitoka Yachi asked me, pulling up a chair next to my desk.

I groaned, not bothering to lift my head up. "School sucks."

I could hear the smile in her voice as she patted my elbow in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture. "Do you want to come and eat with us?"

I cracked open an eye to see Tachibana Miyu and Ishida Azami waving at me from across the room. Like every other girl in school, Miyu and Azami had slick manes of hair that practically gleamed when sunlight reflected off their perfect surfaces. Miyu had even highlighted her glossy chestnut curls with thin blonde streaks that made her look like she'd spent her holiday on Miami Beach. Azami, her soft midnight waves gathered into two high ponytails, was shaking her head – whether disapprovingly or in resignation, I couldn't tell.

"Not moving," I mumbled, refusing to budge from my seat.

"If we come over, you're buying drinks!" Miyu hollered, already grabbing her bento and kicking her chair across the room in one swift movement.

Yachi shot me an apologetic look. "If you're tired, I could go –"

I waved her off mid-sentence. "It's fine."

As Miyu, Azami and Yachi told me their orders – oolong tea, soy milk and milk coffee – I grabbed my scruffy pink wallet from my bag, and left to raid the vending machine.

The nearest vending machine was the one outside the gym. Basking in what little warmth the rather watery-looking sun offered, I took my time, inhaling the dewy air and meandering down the gravel path that lead to the gym. I wasn't too concerned about getting back – my friends would have started sinking their teeth into their own home-made bentos, while my 'bento' consisted of store-bought milk bread that I could finish in five minutes.

I wasn't at all surprised to find that someone had gotten there first. At the speed I was going at, I was pretty sure a snail could have outstripped me.

Switching my wallet from my right hand to my left, I stared at the broad, imposing back in front of me. The boy towered above me by at least two feet, with dark hair that ruffled up around his head, as if he'd just woken up. His jacket fell across his strong shoulders in a perfect line, tapering at his narrow waist. The crisp white shirt beneath stood out against the black fabric. As he turned to leave, drink in hand, he caught sight of me, and blue eyes the colour of languorous lagoons widened to the size of saucers.

His mouth opened, forming the first syllables of my name, but I'd already turned to flee like a wounded animal, scarcely daring to believe my own two eyes.

_What is _he_ doing here?!_


End file.
